Page 50 of The Accidental Innkeeper

“That’s one word for it.”

Helen stepped closer, lowering her voice just enough to make it feel like a warning. “This inn has always been central to Pearls & Pints. People book a year in advance. They expect standards.”

I swallowed. “Right. Standards.”

Helen nodded, like she’d been waiting for permission. “The weekend starts Friday. Welcome reception. Cocktail hour. Light mingling. Nothing aggressive.”

Lola lifted her glass. “Debatable.”

Helen ignored her. “Saturday night is the auction. Each bachelor is presented. Name, age, profession. Any relevant… talents.”

“Talents,” I repeated faintly.

“Skills,” Helen clarified.

Lola leaned forward. “Some transferable.”

Helen sighed. “The highest bidder wins a date.”

“What kind of date?” I asked.

Helen thought about it. “Dinner. Sailing. Wine tasting. Picnic. Guided hikes.”

Lola smiled sweetly. “And sometimes dessert.”

I made a strangled sound.

Helen continued, “Sunday is recovery. Brunch. Regret management.”

“That’s not a thing,” I said.

“It absolutely is,” Lola said.

I looked back at Helen. “And my inn is…”

“The central lodging,” she said. “The social hub. The place everyone congregates between events. Edna always hosted the event at this inn. Every year.”

I gestured wildly around us. “This place currently contains dust, trauma, and a statue that refuses to move.”

Helen glanced at Edna’s bronze likeness. “Yes. We’ll need that addressed.”

“Addressed how.”

“Removed,” Helen said. “Or at least repositioned so she’s not… overseeing cocktail hour.”

Lola raised her glass. “Edna always loved supervision.”

I dropped onto the arm of a chair. “How many people are we talking about.”

Helen didn’t hesitate. “Forty women. Maybe more.”

My soul briefly left my body.

“And how many men.”

“A dozen. Maybe more,” Helen said. “We cap it.”

Lola smiled. “For safety.”